


Under Pressure

by darter_blue



Series: Pressure [2]
Category: Captain America (Movies), Captain America - All Media Types, Marvel Cinematic Universe
Genre: Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Bottom Bucky Barnes, Captain America Steve Rogers/Modern Bucky Barnes, Face-Fucking, Identity Porn, Light Dom/sub, M/M, Oral Fixation, POV Bucky Barnes, Smut, tiny pastry appreciation
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-04-10
Updated: 2020-04-10
Packaged: 2021-03-01 19:48:55
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 6,235
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/23572627
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/darter_blue/pseuds/darter_blue
Summary: Bucky is still high off the sexy encounter he experienced with the super hot guy from his flight yesterday.Only today is not turning out quite so great. He could really use some more of that stress relief that Steve doled out so graciously on the plane.And he left Bucky his number right? Which means Bucky could just call him... See if he's busy...He's doing it - he's calling him.It's ringing.For my Bucky Barnes Bingo square: C4/ Apology
Relationships: James "Bucky" Barnes/Steve Rogers
Series: Pressure [2]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1696774
Comments: 65
Kudos: 605
Collections: Bucky Barnes Bingo 2020





	Under Pressure

**Author's Note:**

> So, back by popular demand :)
> 
> Have some more smut.
> 
> Also, while you read, bear in mind, this is canon divergent. It has aspects of, but does not comply to, Cap and Bucky's canon journey.
> 
> P.S. Don't let me tell you what to do, but it might make more sense to read part one before you start here.
> 
> ENJOY!

For the first time in a while, waking up for Bucky is like it looks in the movies. He opens his eyes, the sun is streaming through the generous windows behind his bed, Wham is playing from the clock radio on the table beside him, and it's a beautiful day.

Last night, Bucky slept like a baby. He slept like he hasn't slept in _months_. And it could be the lack of drugs in his system (he doesn't remember the last time he flew without his antihistamines) and it could be that his work have finally put him in a nice hotel that has unlimited WiFi and craft beer in the mini bar (helped by the fact that they messed up his room booking and had to give him a suite). It could even be that he went and splurged on a wholesome Matzah Ball Soup from Prime deli instead of hiding in his room eating Pringles for dinner. But Bucky has a feeling it's none of those things.

Bucky has a feeling that his new peppy attitude is the result of the super hot sex (almost sex? Bucky's inclined to call it sex if it's someone else's hand on his dick) with the super hot guy he sat next to on the flight over.

Steve.

 _Steve,_ who's number is burning a hole in Bucky's pocket. _Steve,_ who's marks are all over Bucky's neck as he studies himself in the mirror right now. _Steve,_ who held tightly to Bucky's throat while he watched himself get taken to pieces in the tiny, cramped space of the aeroplane bathroom, shirt up under his armpits, pants undone, hair a mess, sticky and sweaty and on fucking _fire_.

Jesus.

Bucky is getting hard right now just thinking about it.

He shakes the thought out of his head though. He's got a conference to be at, to _schmooze_ at, in just a few hours. Where he'll talk about his research project over and over and over again to a bunch of old white men in suits who don't really give a shit about making people's lives easier, but want to know how Bucky's biomechanical prosthetic applications can make them _money_.

Hopefully there's an open bar.

Bucky is also pretty impressed that he brought a collared shirt with him this time, and that doing it up to the top button (he doesn't have a tie, but this a look okay - and it suits his man bun and his Vans) hides all the evidence of yesterday's tawdry activities. The fact that it's floral and European cut will probably work against him in the old white guy schmoozing department, but it's a hit with the millennials. And hey, maybe there will be some crazy rich tech genius types there (unlikely, in Minneapolis) who will invest in his company, and by extension, (maybe, if he's lucky) Bucky's research.

He actually makes it down to the hotel gym for some strength training. He's diligent about it at home, his training, because it's so important for him to keep his shoulders capable of carrying the burden of his prosthesis, but he almost never makes it to the gym when he's travelling. So this is a noteworthy accomplishment. And he feels really good after, refreshed and pumped for a day of having to roll up his sleeve and show off a part of himself he hates having to turn into a public commodity, but it's the glowing star of the company, the prototype from which all other biomechanical feedback prosthetics will be spawned. And this morning, this whole trip so far, in fact, is giving him enough energy to think that maybe, _maybe_ , the day won't be a write off.

And, miracle of miracles, it's not. 

Sort of.

The ambiguity of the success of the day is a direct result of the star turn out. Somehow - and who knew Minneapolis would be such a draw card - the one and only Tony Stark, of Stark Industries, genius and blah blah something (Bucky is not, actually, a fan), has been tricked into attending the conference and is being lead, bored out of his mind, around the (surprisingly impressive) exhibits in the convention centre. 

He even gives a grandiose speech about how amazing the technology of Stark industries is and how by the very grace of his generous heart, Tony will be allowing all the companies and Universities who have staff and researches in attendance, unparalleled access to some of SI's project data. Bucky doesn't really care, to be honest. He wants funding. And Tony Stark should have been sharing the technological advancements of his clean energy technology years ago. For Free. 

Which is exactly what Bucky tells him, when Tony sidles up to him about twenty minutes after he comes down off stage to run a finger up Bucky's partially exposed prosthesis. 

'Gah,' Bucky says, flinching away from the feel of a stranger’s hands on him.

'Interesting,' Tony Stark says in reply, eyebrows raised, looking for all the world like he's extracting data. 

Bucky tries to discreetly roll the sleeve back down and hide his 'toy' away. 

'Oh, don't be like that on my account, it doesn't bother me.'

'It bothers me,' Bucky says, hiding his grimace. Because it might be a blended combination of carbon nanotube polymers and titanium, but it's still Bucky’s arm. And he doesn't like people touching it like it belongs to them, because they're "scientists". 

'What's it made of? Go on, dazzle me.'

'You can look it up.'

'Pardon?' Tony says, surprised, no doubt, that Bucky isn't fawning all over him like everyone else in the room. 

'My research, this prototype, the specs are freely available in about seven different peer reviewed journal articles, you can look. it. up.'

'Wow, you've got some kind of giant rod stuck up your ass there, kiddo.'

'Not today,' Bucky says, and then has to fight down a blush. Because, however briefly, the flash of a certain blond gentleman, and what he might be capable of with the right equipment? Hot. So hot.

And it was a good line, but a mistake has been made, because Stark has clocked Bucky's reaction and is now smiling fiendishly. 

'Oh, I see your little hipster vibe, with your hair and your shirt and that face,' and what? What does his face have to do with it? 'Pretending you're too alternative for the big leagues?' Bucky is not. Bucky is specifically here to get as many of the big leagues to spare him some cash as he can. 

Also he does not like being called ‘kid’ by a man who by all accounts is only a few years older than Bucky himself.

'With respect, Mister Stark-'

'Tony, please,'

'Mister Stark, I'm just not a fan of the way you hoard your research.'

And there might be something in the expression on Bucky's face, or Stark just doesn't appreciate the implication, but he looks more mad than amused suddenly, 'Listen you don't know shit about me, you little punk,' Stark says under his breath, hasn't raised his voice at all, has in fact dropped the volume considerably, but Bucky flinches again anyway, because he's not great at confrontation at the best of times. 

Stark sees the flinch and raises his damn eyebrows again. Bucky takes a step back. 

'Not so tough, huh?' Stark says, though it's more thoughtful than cutting.

'Excuse me,' Bucky says, 'It was nice to meet you, but I've got a... thing, over... there,' and hurries away to the sound of Stark calling out to him,

'Love that arm though!'

Urgh. What an _asshole_.

He makes it through another half round of the convention before he's so morose and panicky he has to get out.

And it's only when he's out the door and in a cab that he gets the email notification from his boss. That Stark Industries is committing half a million dollars in grant funding for the next year. To Bucky. Specifically.

'Holy. Shit,' Bucky says out loud. The driver barely gives him a cursory glance. 

So yeah, it turns out to be kind of an alright day, in the grand scheme of things. 

When he gets back to the hotel, the first thing he does is pluck Steve's note out of his back pocket and stare at the number on the bottom of the page.

He could just call him. He knows, or assumes, he's somewhere within the city limits. He knows he's at least somewhat interested, else he wouldn't have offered this communication directive so freely.

He knows Steve can make him feel all kinds of better.

He's doing it. He's calling.

It's ringing.

'Rogers.'

Bucky hears the gruff greeting through the line and panics. Rogers? Did he miss a digit somewhere? He pulls the phone away to check the number he dialled and as he does so, the person on the other end speaks again.

'Hello? Anyone there?'

And that rich deep voice. Bucky knows that voice.

'Steve?'

'Bucky?' 

'Hey,' Bucky says, exhaling with relief, 'Hi.'

'Hi,' Steve replies, and bless him, he sounds so happy. 'You called!'

'Umm, well yeah,' Bucky laughs, 'Wasn't I supposed to?'

'Yes! Wow, yes.'

And most of the tension just eases out of Bucky's shoulders at the joy in Steve's voice.

Which reminds him why he's calling.

'Don't get too excited,' he says, shifting the phone so he can tuck a stray lock of hair behind his ear, 'I'm actually calling to ask for a favour.'

'A favour huh,' Steve says. And Bucky can't tell if he's being playful or apprehensive.

'Yeah, cause I had kind of a stressful day,' he shudders just a bit, at the memory, 'and I was hoping maybe you had some more ideas. About how to help. With that.' God. He's so glad Steve can't see him right now, he must be about the exact same shade as a ripe tomato.

'Well I guess it's your lucky day,' Steve practically purrs down the line, 'I have just the thing.'

'Oh yeah?' Bucky is embarrassed at how breathless he sounds already.

'Yeah, but it's kind of an _in person_ treatment.'

Bucky can't help but huff out a laugh at that. 'Of course it is.'

'Can I come see you?' He sounds so eager, Bucky can hardly say no.

'I'm at the Hewing.'

'Fancy,' Steve says, all cheek.

'Shut-up, the company has vouchers. I don't know.'

Steve just laughs. 'What room?'

'Room 93, the Hennepin suite.'

'Very Fancy!'

'Yeah, yeah.'

And now Bucky has a dilemma, because how long will it take Steve to get here? Does he change? Does he shower? Does he organise food? He's hungry, actually, now that thinks about it. Hasn't had anything to eat since breakfast and it's already near five o'clock in the afternoon. Which is way past lunch but too early for dinner. 

He checks the menu for room service and fuck it. Tony Stark may be an asshole, but he's giving the company a shit ton of money. Bucky can celebrate, damn it, this is something to be celebrated. So he orders the fanciest fucking thing on the menu, which happens to be a high tea service, and has enough time to clean his teeth and take his hair out of the bun, Comb it out a bit with his fingers, before there's a knock at the door. 

Which seems quick, even for a fancy hotel. _Especially_ for a fancy hotel.

And it shouldn't be such a surprise when he opens the door to find the living embodiment of an actual god waiting for him on the other side.

'Hey,' Steve says. And the man is honest to god _leaning_ on the door frame with one magnificent elbow, like a damn Marlboro man.

Bucky swallows at the sight of him. 

'Hi,' he manages to squeak out. Not any kind of game to be found.

'You gonna let me in?' Steve asks, grinning. Bucky just takes a step backwards and lets Steve brush past him on the way in. 

Steve gets to the middle of the room and spins on a pivot, whistling his appreciation. 

'This is nice, Buck, this is real nice,' he says, taking in all the dark wood and black chrome. It's a spacious room. Exposed brick all along the back wall, a king bed in the middle of the room up against full length, black framed casement windows, the warmth of the afternoon sun spilling across it. A couch is set against a wall of curtained windows to the left and a leather armchair rests in the corner. Along the opposite wall, runs a kitchenette with black chrome shelving, a desk and a television.

It's definitely the nicest room Bucky's ever stayed in on one of these trips and it's come at just exactly the right time.

'It's nice to see you,' Bucky says in turn. And it's true. Steve looks amazing, in soft blue jeans and a beige knit sweater. Bucky feels overdressed, still in his outfit from the conference. 

'I didn't think you were gonna call me so soon,' Steve says honestly, moving forward to crowd into Bucky's space. 'I'm glad you did.'

'I did have kind of an awful day,' Bucky says quietly, and he's aware that that changes the mood of the room significantly as Steve switches into caregiver mode.

'What happened?' he takes up Bucky's right arm into his hands, massaging into that spot in his hand that turns Bucky to goo. 

'Just too many people. Too many not very nice people,' Bucky shrugs. It wasn't anything bad, not really, he just felt out of his depth. Trapped a little bit maybe. Two of his not favourite things. 

'Hmm, well I have lots of room and no audience this time, l wonder how many pressure points I can reach today,' Steve let's his voice roll over Bucky and he runs a hand all the way up Bucky's arm and turns him slowly, so that his back is to Steve's chest. 'You feel very tense.' Steve's hands slide over the material of Bucky's shirt until they are braced across Bucky's shoulders, his thumbs pinching into the muscle on either side of his neck. As Steve presses, Bucky feels the weight lift off him, feels the tightness of a held breath release.

He flat out groans as the tension melts away. It feels so good. 

'That's it, just let it go,' Steve is using his voice to wrap around Bucky and wash over him. Just as he steps right up to press into and along Bucky's back there's another knock at the door. 

Bucky feels Steve freeze. 'Who's that?'

'Room service?' Bucky guesses, making to extract himself from Steve and get the door. Steve doesn't let him though, holding him firmly. Bucky can turn his head just far enough to give Steve a look.

'Let me check,' he cocks his head as if listening for something, then gives Bucky's shoulders one last squeeze before letting go to get the door. He steps to the peephole, seems satisfied by whatever he finds there and opens the door only enough to speak quietly to the person on the other side, pass over a few folded notes from his wallet (small, tan leather. It's a very nice wallet) and then pulls in the cart with one hand and shuts the door again with the other. 

Steve is staring down at the tea, the champagne and the tiered tower of tiny pastries with a little smile. 'You got the Queen coming or something, Buck?'

Bucky fights down his blush, 'No, I was just...' now he doesn't even remember why he ordered this. Having Steve in his room, looking like sex on legs, talking at Bucky with that voice... it's not fair, his thought processes aren't firing right. 

'It's okay,' Steve drawls, 'This is perfect actually,' and he bypasses the drinks to pick up one of the tarts decorated with a delicate, candied sliver of lemon. 'Try this,' he says, sidling right up to Bucky with the pastry held outstretched. Not to put in Bucky’s hand, but directly in his mouth.

Bucky, god help him, just opens his mouth to the pastry, eyes fixed to Steve's, heart racing.

Steve sits the pastry in Bucky's mouth, doesn't let go of his hold on it, and Bucky bites down into the buttery softness, darting his tongue out to catch a crumb. He does close his eyes, just for a second, at the burst of fresh sweet-sour on his tongue and opens them again to Steve's intense gaze. Holding the last bite of the tart, still as a statue, breaking Bucky down with the force of his want. 

Bucky swallows, licks his lips again and then opens his mouth like a good boy. Steve slides the last bite in and pushes his finger just past Bucky's teeth, dragging it slightly and letting Bucky trap it as he closes his lips around the offering, to suck on it, just a little. 

Bucky watches Steve's eyes drop to his mouth and follow his finger as it slips out and traces across Bucky's bottom lip. And then he asks, with that _voice,_ 'How is it?' and Bucky can be forgiven for the soft, low moan he can't contain. 'That good, huh?'

Bucky gives him a look in reply to show he knows exactly what Steve is doing. 

Steve's responding grin is wide and unrepentant. 'More?'

Bucky simply opens his mouth in reply and Steve's eyes flash as his grin expands. 

Bucky is playing this game.

Steve feeds him another pastry, this time rich and chocolatey, and once Bucky has eaten it, Steve crowds into him, placing a firm hand around his waist and the other behind his head and presses into a kiss, chasing the taste of the chocolate with his tongue, sliding his hand up under Bucky's shirt to reach his skin. 

The contact is electric. 

Steve pulls his mouth away only far enough to speak. ‘You gonna let me make you feel good, Bucky?'

'Let you do whatever you want, Steve,' Bucky says, closing his eyes at the heat in Steve's expression.

'Look at me, Buck,' Steve says, voice deep and warm but firmer somehow, and Bucky's eyes snap open. 'Don't say _whatever_ unless you mean _whatever_.' His tone is gently admonishing. 

Bucky wants to say he really means whatever, partly to be petulant and partly because he thinks it might be true. But he's also aware enough that he knows that might be dangerous and a small but insistent part of him wants so badly to _please_ Steve. 

'I don't really... I just want...' 

Steve tightens his grip around Bucky. 'You want me to be in control.'

'Yes,' Bucky says with relief.

'And you'll tell me if it doesn’t feel good.'

'I will.'

'Okay. I can work with that.' And Steve proceeds to slip a finger under Bucky's buttons and run it down through them so deftly that his shirt is open in seconds, parting it to run flat, broad palms across Bucky's exposed chest and down to his waist.

‘Been thinking about this since yesterday,’ Steve says into Bucky’s mouth as he kisses him some more, ‘getting you out of your clothes, getting to see you properly.’

Bucky is fully melting into Steve’s words, nodding, because yes, he’s been thinking about it too. And the idea that he can just let go, let Steve take over, is so intoxicating, he wants to never leave here. 

He shivers as Steve slides the shirt off his shoulders and tosses it aside. Steve spends an extra second running his hands up Bucky’s metal arm, but no more. He traces a finger over the seam of where it sits on Bucky’s shoulder, watching carefully for any positive or negative reaction. It's slightly more sensitive for Bucky than the skin on his other shoulder, only because of the weight of the metal there and the pressure it exerts (the most sensitive parts of his arm are buried inside the prosthetic).

Steve must see something he likes in Bucky’s reaction because he moves in to trace the spot with his tongue instead and _fuck_ , why is that so hot?

‘I like these little noises you make, Buck,’ Steve says, coming back up to catch his mouth again. Bucky’s not aware he’s making any noise, but he’s not really aware of anything that isn’t what Steve is doing with his tongue right now, and he’s okay with that. Scratch that, he is maybe slightly aware of the fact that Steve has his hands on Bucky’s pants now, using his clever fingers to get his fly undone and push them down to his ankles. ‘Shoes off, Buck. Socks too,’ Steve says and Bucky complies without thinking, toeing his Vans off and kicking them away, then reaching down with his right hand to rip his socks off and throw them with his shoes, gripping at Steve with his left hand to get purchase and smiling at the flash of heat he catches in Steve’s eyes when he does. 

‘And pants?’ Bucky asks, because he doesn’t want to be standing here with his pants around his ankles.

‘And pants.’ Steve agrees, and Bucky kicks them off and over to the pile. His left hand is still holding Steve’s arm and his right is now clutched in the front of Steve’s oversized sweater. He’s in his underwear, but that’s it. Steve is still fully dressed, and again, he doesn’t know why it’s affecting him like this, but he definitely feels some kinda way about it. ‘One more,’ Steve says, reaching to the tiered stand for a raspberry and cream filled macaroon, ‘Cause you’ve been so good, Buck.’

Bucky can’t help the shiver of pleasure that runs through him at Steve’s praise. Steve doesn’t comment on it, but his smile is unashamedly joyful, and that’s probably the hottest thing about him. 

Bucky opens his mouth and waits for Steve to fill it. 

The macaroon is so light it starts to dissolve on Bucky’s tongue, but the cream is rich and the raspberries are tart and biting the cookie in half is problematic, it's just too big. So Steve steps in, of course, to lick the excess cream from around Bucky’s lips and then into his mouth. And he’s learning a lot about himself today, because that goes right to Bucky’s dick. 

And Steve’s not unaffected by it either, if the way he abandons the rest of the macaroon onto a plate on the cart without looking, and gets back to kissing Bucky fiercely is anything to go by. He snakes a hand up into Bucky’s hair, running fingers deftly through the strands then takes hold, hard enough that it hurts, but not so much that Bucky doesn't like it. 

‘Okay, I think we could be putting this mouth to better use,’ Steve says, and his voice is so rough it's like gravel. It tugs at something in Bucky. He doesn’t even really register what Steve has said until he feels the hand in his hair directing him down, ‘On your knees, Buck.’

And oh.

OH.

Okay. 

He looks at Steve, who’s looking back at him, the first flicker of uncertainty in his eyes, waiting for Bucky’s reaction, and Bucky sinks straight to his knees, as much to get that look off Steve’s face as to finally have a chance to get his hands on his dick. 

Or his mouth on it, as it were. 

Bucky wastes no time, watching Steve as he uses both hands to get up under Steve’s sweater and start to undo his fly. Steve helps by grabbing the cable knit by the hem and ripping it over his head. And wow.

Wow.

The chest underneath that sweater is… well, Bucky doesn’t quite know how to describe it, but, it’s so perfect he wants to cry. Those ridiculous wide shoulders taper down into a slim waist. His pecs are huge, his abs are like marble. He must have zero percent body fat. His muscles have muscles. How does he look like this?

‘How do you look like this?’

Steve raises one perfect eyebrow haughtily in response and Bucky gets the message, now is not the time for stupid questions.

He gets back to Steve's fly, working it open, and Steve reaches into his underwear, his pants still pretty firmly sitting over all the ass packed into them (it's a lot, that ass), to pull his hardening cock out without removing any more of his clothing. He has his hand wrapped around the base, but there is so much length left over, Steve is so huge, Bucky isn't exactly sure how much of that he's going to be able to get in his mouth without choking.

Still, there's no reward without risk, fortune favours the brave, yadda, yadda, yadda - and Bucky is pretty fucking keen to jump in. 

He looks up at Steve, and some of that thirst must be obvious, because Steve's pupils have blown just like Bucky remembers, and he grabs onto Bucky by the hair, firm but still not rough, and guides the tip of his dick to Bucky's lips. Not quite touching, but Bucky could reach out and put his mouth on out, it would be no trouble at all. 

'Buck.'

Bucky is eyeing off the impressive head of Steve's dick, where it's pink and wet and waiting for him.

'Bucky,' Steve says again, a little louder, a little firmer this time. 

'Mmm?' Bucky asks, just noise, because what are words really? And who the fuck cares about anything else when they could have Steve's dick in their mouth instead? He must be leaning forward because Steve snaps Bucky's head back with a quick pull of his hair. 'Yeah? Yes?' Bucky asks, more concrete this time, to prove he is paying attention. 

'I'm going to hold you still, and fuck your face, Bucky,' Steve says, so deep, so so deep. And oh god, Bucky never knew anything could sound so good. 

He nods, because he doesn't think it was a question, but Steve might be expecting some kind of response and he doesn't want to keep Steve waiting. 

'I want your hands on my thighs, do that for me, Buck.'

Bucky takes direction like a champ, and moves a hand to each of Steve's thighs, curling around them and gripping the back of them. 

'I want you to tap twice with your hand, either hand, if you need me to back off. Yes?'

'Yes,' Bucky says, nodding again. It sounds like a very reasonable request.

'And unless you ask me not to, or tap out when I let you know I'm ready, I'm going to pull out and come on your face.'

Yes. Yeah, please do that, Bucky thinks. The words don't appear to be coming out of his mouth, but his expression probably says it all.

'Good, okay. And Buck?'

'Mm?'

'You look so gorgeous like this,' Steve says, and pushes his dick right to the flesh of Bucky's lips. 'Ready?'

Bucky opens his mouth, ready for Steve to feed him, and is rewarded with a rushed exhale and the forward momentum of Steve's hips in response.

Bucky opens wider and Steve pushes further and faster, before pulling back, stroking his hand along the length of himself and then pushing back in slowly.

His hands still have a tight hold on Bucky's hair and Steve tugs at it to angle his face up slightly before pulling out again and then pushing back in, harder, faster and further each time. 

Bucky kneads his fingers into the hard flesh of Steve's thighs under his jeans as the pressure gets more intense, air gets harder to suck in, even through his nose, but the slide of all that velvet soft skin against Bucky's tongue is so filthy, so delicious, Bucky can't get enough. 

He hums with pleasure, watching Steve watching him, sucking as much as he can when his mouth is so full and all of Steve's bulk is so closely crowded around him. But it's Steve's breath labouring, his eyes half closed and mouth half open, his thrusts becoming more erratic, harder and faster, filling Bucky right up and cutting off his air. It's all of it, and Bucky wishes he could get a hand on himself, but his instructions were clear. Still, it doesn't stop him from making little half aborted thrusts with his hips as Steve fucks into him relentlessly.

Steve is thrusting almost all of his dick into Bucky now, has worked up to it, has let go of the base to slip his other hand around Bucky's face, thumb brushing his cheekbone and holds Bucky still while he pushes right to the back of Bucky's throat. 

'Oh god, Bucky, now,' Steve says, breathless, and pulls right out of Bucky's mouth. Bucky keeps his hands firm on Steve's thighs and makes sure to keep his eyes wide and locked on Steve's as warm, sticky come lands over his lips and down his chin. 

Steve let's go of Bucky's hair and cards his fingers through it, gentling some of the pull from his firm hand and setting it right. He uses his thumb to swipe the come off Bucky's lip and suck it into his own mouth, then draws Bucky up by the hands, reaching around to pry them from his thighs and pull him close. 

'Come with me,' Steve says quietly, and leads Bucky by the hand to the bathroom, more black Chrome and white tile, very spacious for a hotel, and turns on the hot water tap to run over a washcloth. He then carefully wipes the spunk off Bucky's face and Bucky stifles a laugh as he flinches away slightly at the tickling sensation. Steve tsks, 'Hush, let me clean you.'

And so Bucky stands still and lets Steve finish. Steve sets the cloth aside and then bends down to slip Bucky's underwear down over his achingly hard erection. Stroking it with his hands softly and then reaching behind Bucky to run the water in the shower. Bucky isn't sure what's happening, but doesn't argue, as Steve removes the rest of his own clothes and pushes them both under the steam of the huge shower head, plenty of room for both of them it's such an expansive shower cove, and takes another washcloth to cover in the complimentary body wash and run over Bucky's chest. 

His arm is designed to get wet, but it's not great with most soaps, so Bucky stops Steve before he can run it across the join and gives a small shake of his head. Steve smiles, pleased at the direction, and continues on to Bucky's other arm. And then down his legs and up over his ass and his back, before setting the cloth aside. He leans in close, so their foreheads rest together, and with one arm around Bucky's waist, the other reaches for his dick and...

Yes,

Right there.

Steve's hand is slippery with soap and it's big and warm and it's familiar to Bucky now, sense memory helping his nervous system along. And, oh...

Steve is hard again too, god that was fast, and he's using his big, warm, clever hand on both of them together. He's panting into Bucky's mouth and Bucky leans up to catch Steve’s lips with his teeth, just a nip, drawing his bottom lip in between Bucky's and then fucking slowly into Steve's mouth with his tongue.

Steve responds by spinning them around and backing Bucky up into the wall, taking control of the kiss, his hand working faster and faster around them and Bucky is thrusting into the tight wet heat of it, along the hard length of Steve trapped with him and suddenly he’s coming, coming all over Steve's hands and his cock and Steve follows right after, kissing Bucky through the aftershocks. 

Steve washes them off with the cloth, kissing up and down Bucky's throat while Bucky stays trapped between Steve and the wall feeling stupidly safe and satisfied.

'Beautiful,' Steve says again, brushing Bucky's hair behind his ear, and kissing him softly. Then leans back like a spell is broken. 'We should get you food.'

Steve shuts the water off, passes a fluffy white towel to Bucky and takes one for himself. 

Bucky pulls on his sweat pants and puts his hair up while his minds reels at the change of pace. He is hungry though, he could eat, and while thinking about what they could get for dinner, he's interrupted by the ringing of his cell phone. 

It's Sci-Farm.

Why is his work calling?

It could be bad news, he has a _feeling_ it's bad news. He doesn’t want to hear it, but he also doesn't want to not pick up and then stress about it all night, so he does the next worse thing and answers.

'James Barnes,'

'Barnes,' and it's not just work, it's his _boss_. 'I've got a call to connect to you.'

'What?' Bucky must not have his brain back yet, because what? The head of the research department is calling to connect someone through?

'Take the damn call, James.'

And the line clicks though suddenly to a noisy room somewhere.

'Hello?' he says tentatively

'Who is this?'

'Who… what? You called me!'

'James Buchanan Barnes?' and crap, he recognises that voice.

'Yeah, why are you calling me?'

'Hey, so I'm supposed to apologize.'

'What for?' Crap. Bucky is freaking out because that voice is Tony Stark and he's calling to apologize? Is he pulling the funding? Did he pick the wrong project by mistake? Of course this is happening. The universe would never just let Bucky have nice things.

'What for? For being an asshole, that's what for. What's wrong with you kid?'

'Ah…' Bucky is standing with his mouth open, in the middle of the room in his phone and he's at a total loss. Which is when Steve comes in, fully dressed again (for shame).

'What are we getting, Buck?'

And Bucky sort of forgets he's on the phone, 'Oh no I didn't call yet.'

Steve huff's a laugh, points to the phone and closes right in on where Bucky is standing, 'What's this then?'

'Who is that?' Stark barks in his ear.

'Nobody.'

'Nobody?' Steve and Stark both ask at the same time, Bucky isn't even sure which one of them he was answering. Steve pulls back from the phone like it burned him.

'Is that Tony Stark?' Steve asks. And how the fuck? 

'Who is that?' Stark is demanding in his ear, 'He sounds familiar, Jarvis who is that?'

Bucky feels like he's stuck in a tug of war, and he's the rope. He puts his hand over the mic and focuses on Steve. 

'Yes, it's Tony Stark, my boss put him through, he's investing in our research.' Bucky explains, still unsure as to why that a) matters to Steve and b) is causing him to look panicked.

'Your research into what?'

Bucky holds up his prosthetic, 'Into making these available to the public,' 

'Oh,' Steve says, 'And Tony's investing?'

He can hear Stark still talking on the other end of the line, but Bucky needs to just be speaking to one person at a time. 'Hold please,' he says to Stark and then covers it back over to speak to Steve again, 'He was at our conference today,' Bucky tries to explain, still unsure how it's relevant, 'He was the reason I had such a bad day.'

'What did he do?' Steve asks, stepping forward, brows furrowed, looking seriously threatening, which is quite an accomplishment in that sweater.

'Steve Rogers!' Bucky can hear Stark yelling through the speaker and Steve steps back and Bucky brings the phone back to his ear.

'Who?'

And Steve is looking caught out.

And Bucky is properly confused.

'Stark, I'm really sorry, I have to go.' He goes to hang up and then quickly adds, 'Sci-farm thanks you for your financial support,' before ending the call. 'Steve?'

'Bucky, I'm so sorry but I have to go,' Steve says, pulling on sneakers and grabbing his phone from the bed. 

'I… okay…' Bucky stammers, honestly, he's feeling very confused. And his body is still on a high from the orgasm, and the super hot but somewhat confronting nature of the whole afternoon so far has him a bit frazzled, frankly.

'I'll call you, okay?' Steve says, backing up to the door, 'I really... no. I had… _fuck_ ,' He runs his hand over his eyes before reaching for the door. 'I'll call you.' 

And Bucky just stands in the middle of the room and watches him go. 'But…' the door closes and he's alone. And he's so, so confused. Did he do something wrong? 

What the fuck just happened? 

All he knows is, this has something to do with Stark, and Steve Rogers. Bucky's only really aware of one notable Steve Rogers, and he died nearly forty years before Bucky was even born.

Did he mention he is supremely confused right now?

With no idea what to do next, he cuts his losses, opens the champagne and sits down on the bed to drink straight from the bottle. 

‘Congratulations Jimmy,’ he says softly to the empty room, ‘You’re life is officially a fucking circus.’

Well. At least it's getting interesting. 

  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  


**Author's Note:**

> Yeah - don't be mad.
> 
> There's more and its coming soon.
> 
> I wouldn't do that to you.
> 
> Stay Safe folks, see you soon!
> 
> Yell at me in the comments (but sweetly please)
> 
> Hit me up:  
>  **[darter-blue](https://www.tumblr.com/blog/darter-blue)** on tumblr
> 
> Or 
> 
> [@beclouise13](https://twitter.com/beclouise13) on twitter


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